


constant conversations

by lokh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Pokemon GO, Gen, M/M, Magical Realism, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7610122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokh/pseuds/lokh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>alternate title: GOTTA CATCH EM ALL</p><p>wherein oikawa tooru must find an apartment to stay in for uni, get a job and practice volleyball, all while trying not to be consumed by the pokemon craze</p>
            </blockquote>





	constant conversations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maesilju](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maesilju/gifts).



> im s o sorry it seems rushed,, initially id planned it to be longer but i may have bitten off more than i could chew ;; ANYWAYS I hope it's not too out of character or anything!! I think actually that their interactions would be very interesting, given how unconventional Kenma is socially and how Oikawa seems to flaunt and rely on societal convention. Interestingly enough, when I started writing this, Pokemon Go hadn't been released in Japan yet asdcs,, I hope you enjoy!

By the tenth time the boy has passed the same spot, you are absolutely _certain_ that he's playing Pokemon Go.

It's not as though it would be unlikely, after all. As if the hype wasn't already intense after the game was released overseas, once they game was finally released in Japan, all hell broke loose. Droves and droves of people, young and old, roamed in silent packs from district to district with all their determination funnelled into catching them all. It was almost impossible to walk through the parks back in Sendai, forget _Tokyo_ , due to the sheer amount of people just loitering and _staring._

(The district to district thing was, apparently, not hyperbole. Iwa-chan had relayed a story to you wherein Kunimi accidentally bumped into that bald guy from _Karasuno_. The encounter was made worse by the revelation that they were on different teams, and that they were standing in front of an unclaimed gym. The finer details escaped you.)

In another universe, there would be no doubt that the game would usher in a wake of inattentional accidents and fatalities, Pokemon in impossible to reach places being desperately sought after by very desperate trainers. Feats of bravado and impulsive shows of wealth would make headlines, gamers reaching new lengths to obtain the very best.

This universe, however, is _ten times worse_.

Given the correct ability, no place is impossible to reach. The only difference now is that dozens of people at a time are attempting to reach that place at all times, so the fatality rate probably isn't as low as one would expect compared to the hypothetical non-powered universe. Lure module in the middle of a massive lake? Someone with enhancement powers has already flown over and is hovering smugly with their shiny new Pokemon. New gym in the middle of the train tracks god knows where? Someone with the ability to become incorporeal has set up camp there, evading authorities and any attempts at being overthrown. Battery died and you're three hours from home? Kunimi is probably having a blast, given his ability to conduct electricity. Rumored legendary Pokemon hidden in the depths of an active volcano? You're suspecting ( _hoping_ ) that this story is untrue, but you wouldn't doubt for a second that someone with some sort of immunity or elemental power has already gone and checked.

Long story short, it was chaos. And that was in the outskirts of _Miyagi_ , as close to the countryside as one would dare. You knew, therefore, that entering Tokyo only days after the game made its nationwide debut was like willingly entering the gaping maw of a soul-sucking demon that has consumed before and will consume again.

Yet here you are, in the middle of Sumida ward, sitting in front of a shrine and watching a teenager pace back and forth.

Well, it's not like you have a _choice_. Visiting Tokyo is one thing – trying to find accommodation there is _another thing entirely_ . You are almost even _regretting_ having been admitted into the University of Tokyo, except, no, not really, you are not regretting it _at all_ (even though Iwa-chan was admitted to Yamadai and Matsukawa and Hanamaki were accepted into Hirodai, nope! Not at _all_!). But living so close to the center of Tokyo is a nigh impossible task, even for _you_ , the Great Oikawa Tooru™, who's always had a penchant for finding rare and valuable things. The train to Komaba campus from Hirai station in the east takes about an hour, but that's better than the four or so hours from Miyagi, and also you could just ride a bike or something and get there faster probably.

You've been here for a grand total of two days and you already feel like you're a bit in over your head. The population of Aoba ward in Sendai is comparable to that of Sumida, but you didn't prepare yourself for how _cramped_ it was here. You know that the streets are probably not as narrow as you think they are, but it's hard to see them any other way when buildings tower over you with barely any space in-between each other, and a single car is enough to push you out of the way. Then again, you _are_ walking in the opposite direction of any major roads or city centers, but that doesn't really change your impression of the place.

Still, so close to the beginning of the semester, one would think that an apartment that is a) cheap, b) not overrun by prospective tenants and c) relatively close to campus would be a reality-breaking paradox, seeing as every one of those features are mutually exclusive to each other. The alternative, however, is camping out in the university library (why don't they have dorms, again?).

You are, in the end, a lucky man, and by _god_ you will find that fabled apartment if it is the _last thing you do_.

Suffice it to say, you don't really have the time (or the funds, honestly) to partake in the country's most recent craze. Oh, of _course_ you like Pokemon and grew up with it like it was a Pikachu-shaped birthmark, but you imagine it would lost its novelty much too quickly, and you suspect that you won't be having much time left in-between your mandatory rest day, your practice, your study and your search for a part-time job. Tragically, scholarships can only take you so far. Who knew!

 _Anyway_. You're getting away from the subject here. Why do you know so much about Pokemon Go when you don't even play it? A large part of it (most of it, in fact) involves Yahaba, dear, sweet, newly-minted captain of Seijoh Yahaba, spilling out his woes to you and despairing of the team engulfed in Nintendo's slimy capitalist grip. The first years were easy enough to scare out of it – apparently, the biggest problem was _Kyoutani_ (and you are unbelievably glad that you are not the one that has to deal with that). The other part of why you know so much is because you have a sister _and_ a younger cousin, both of whom are _avid_ fans of the game.

It's this secondhand knowledge that grants you the ability to immediately pick out whoever in the crowd (or lack thereof) is playing that godforsaken game. For example: this pudding-haired kid.

The only reason you'd even doubted at first is that this place is so... _out of the way_. Where there were Pokemon, hordes of people followed. But this place, just by the riverside, is almost entirely devoid of people. Part of it may have to do with the fact that there is an unfortunately similarly named shrine more popular than this one to the west, and the other, one would naturally assume, would be because there are no Pokemon in the area to be had.

On the other hand, he _has_ been loitering in front of the gate for about half an hour (you're _tired_ , okay? Navigating unfamiliar cities is _hard!_ ), and that's no small feat, considering the thirty-degree heat and the midday sun. His gaze is trained steadfastly on his phone, gait slow enough that he doesn't even have to look up to know where he's going. One, two, three - about fourteen steps in one direction, stop, shuffle until he's turned around, then another fourteen steps, and ad infinitum (or, at least, ad the last thirty minutes). Either this boy is epically lost, or he's waiting for _something_.

The way he glances over to you every once in a while seems to indicate that you may be hindering his search, which is, uh, _rude_ , especially since Oikawa Tooru's presence only heralds luck and good fortune, but the way the kid will squint at you and then squint accusingly at his smartphone says otherwise. In any case, you are pretty darn sure that you can catch Pokemon regardless of whether someone is standing (or in this case, sitting) in its exact spot!

“Hey,” you call out, impulsively, because you can still feel the collar of your shirt sticking wetly against your shoulders, and because the only reason you haven't moved for half an hour _might_ be because you are, in fact, epically lost. The word breaks the tranquil atmosphere of the shrine, loud in the quiet, and you feel a vague sense of guilt for precisely five seconds about it. He pauses in his pacing – you'd even say he flinched. He doesn't answer, only turning to look at you apprehensively, and you are beginning to think that the reason he is out here by himself is because he's too prickly to have friends.

“You're playing Pokemon?”

 _That_ gets some tension to ease out of his expression. Probably he's reassured that you're not a mass murderer. Still, he doesn't budge from his spot, fingers clutching minutely at his phone, but he does grace you with a plain, “yes.”

Well. That wasn't something you expected. Not the Pokemon playing – you'd initially assumed that he was at _least_ a few years younger than you, but that deep a voice fit someone well into high school better than it did a middle schooler.

“Hm,” you say, vaguely, mostly because this wasn't exactly an encounter you'd carefully planned out, and from the kid's dull stare, he can tell. “What are you doing all the way out here? Some sort of special one in the area?”

The kid's brows furrow ever so slightly. You're starting to wish that you'd worn your glasses – every single shift on this kid's face is on the microscopic level. His lips purse slightly but he doesn't say anything.

Actually, this encounter is much less well-thought out than you'd ever pretend it to be. You are, after all, clearly older (even if it's just a little bit!) than this random kid you've never seen before, you're inquiring into the game he's playing, and have now just asked a question proving that you do not, in fact, play that game. When you put it starkly like that, it is pretty much the epitome of suspiciousness. The kid _still_ hasn't said anything, as though he was just waiting for you to come to the obvious conclusion, and it's honestly more than a _little_ irritating.

“Wait, wait, hang on. I can probably figure out where it is,” which you _can_ if you put your mind to it, but the kid's furrow just reached macroscopic levels, clearly in disbelief. You put your fingers to your temple, which, admittedly, is mostly theatrical, and the kid looks unsuitably unimpressed. “There should be one...”

Well, you've never actually tried to find a rare Pokemon, and in the first place it isn't a concrete object, necessarily? Virtual reality complicated these sorts of things. Possibly, your powers were never meant to work on something so abstract. Still, you can't exactly back down now, so you close your eyes, and _think_ . (You may still remember the original theme song. _Maybe_.)

Nothing. Then, after a moment, that reliable push and tug.

 _There_.

“There,” you say, pointing. When you open your eyes, it's to the shrine itself, beyond the gate and trees, and the kid is looking over to where you've gestured before turning back to look at you suspiciously. You shrug. “If there's nothing there, feel free to run screaming.”

You can _almost_ convince yourself that he huffs, just under his breath, before slowly, slowly, he's turning and taking shuffling steps toward the shrine. The _torii_ almost seems to creak in the rustling breeze, dark wood cracked and aged. There's a small wooden sign on the white fence bordering it – ' _please refrain from magic use on premises_ '. It really must be a lot older than you thought.

The crunch of dirt and gravel comes to a halt. Distantly, you can hear children laughing and shouting closer to the riverbank. If you're correct, then you may be close to the park beside the river, and you may not be quite as lost as you thought you were. Then, a tinny jingle, and the footsteps come closer.

“See? What did I tell you,” you say, only a touch smugly. His silence says it all. Judging from the way he's not even complaining about how you'd just pointed out another Zubat or something, you may have even lucked out ( _ha_ ) and snagged him a rare or powerful one. He seems less apprehensive about you now, gold eyes flicking up to look at you for longer before eventually flicking away.

“You don't play the game,” the kid says, instead of heaping praises upon you, and he's getting ruder by the second because _wow_ did he just speak so informally to an adult stranger? Maybe you underestimated this kid – you should've guessed he could have been a delinquent from the bleached hair and anti-social behavior. The statement had an accusation to it, leaving out the implied 'so how did you know where it was'. The suspicion is less hostile, at least.

“I don't,” you agree, because you don't, and because your phone battery died almost an hour ago, so you can't exactly back up any lies that spew from your mouth. “Guess I'm just a real lucky guy!”

“Hm,” he says, noncommittally, and he looks back down at his phone. You figure that's the closest to a thanks that you're ever going to get. That's when you realize that any moment now, he's going to go walk off in search for the next small fictional creature to ensnare, leaving you lost, again, and alone, _again,_ nevermind that even if you _do_ find your way back to the hotel, you'll still have come back empty-handed. See – he's even looking around _now,_ surveying his exits!

“So you didn't answer me earlier,” you blurt. Hopefully, it sounded less like a blurt, and more like a suave segue. His face, unfortunately, doesn't give anything away. “Usually people are playing in packs, yet you're all the way out here. Did you know there was a rare Pokemon around here?”

For a moment you're certain he's going to just ignore you and mosey off to the next secluded area filled with lost travelers, but he surprises you by lowering his phone and raising his head. He hasn't quite managed eye contact yet, but at this point it's not something you're expecting.

“I didn't. I only came here because there isn't anyone here. It's just lucky that the Pokemon here was rare.”

His words have a strange dragging quality to them, pace slowed by a fraction, and that combined with his general quietness and also the fact that you're about to pass out means that it takes you a moment to process what he's said.

“The game can tell you that? That there's no one around?”

“No.”

Absolutely no elaboration. Maybe you should just cut the segues and straight up ask, no matter how awkwardly placed, for an impromptu tour around this damn place.

“Uh... do you even _like_ playing?”

A shrug. It's the most expressive that you've ever seen the kid. You've known him for all of five minutes (half an hour, technically) and you want to cry. They grow up so fast.

“I guess.”

And _now_ you want to cry, but for different reasons. Perhaps it is time for paper maps to make their comeback. His words said 'I actually like playing but I don't want to come off as too eager', but his face and tone of voice said 'nothing is real and I'm just passing time until I reach the void'. So finally, you pull on a smile, a bit more tired than is your Trademark but is hopefully charming, nonetheless, and you remember your manners like a food service worker remembers that punching a customer will get them fired.

“Okay, so I just wanted to ask a little favor, if it's no trouble,” you start, and then you keep going because you just _know_ if you give him the opening, he's going to say that it _is_ trouble and just walk away. “The thing is, I'm actually a bit lost right now. I'm just visiting the area to find somewhere to move in. So really, I just need a few directions to get me back to the hotel.”

“Where?”

“Even to Hirai station, or any station close by. Please.”

 _That's_ when he actually starts to look concerned. By concerned, you mean his lips twist, just slightly, and the furrow, god forbid, is actually becoming _visible_. It's enough to make you wonder if you'd managed to get yourself lost in what was supposed to be the equivalent of a kid's playground. That, or you'd somehow ended up in a different prefecture entirely, and he's wondering how in the world one could end up so pathetically lost.

“How long have you been walking around?”

“Um. Around two hours, give or take?”

“And you started at Hirai station... to where?”

You're not sure where this is going. You are beginning to think that _he_ doesn't know where he's going.

“Last I remember, I'd passed by Yahiro station, but I didn't exactly anticipate, ah, getting lost quite so badly. That was. Uh, a while ago.”

He hums, wordlessly, but his expression is souring by the minute. He turns his head, looking down the empty road, and what if he doesn't actually know the area? It's possible that he, too, is actually lost, and is just another Pokemon player that wandered in from hours away. He's biting his lip, as if debating what to say, and somehow even in the humidity his lips manage to look dry. When he talks, it's not for another minute, and it's not like you were counting!

“What a _waste_.”

You _gape_.

“Uh, no offense, kid,” you say, because as it turns out this kid _is_ completely rude and has zero grasp on social niceties and hierarchies, “but you might wanna try _respecting your elders_?”

He stares, witheringly, at you. “It takes only around half an hour to reach Yahiro station if you go through the 449 from Hirai station. We are currently _standing_ on the 449.”

“Oh.”

“In that kind of time, you could have caught something, or hatched an egg,” he mutters darkly, turning back to his phone and tapping at it, slightly more viciously than is completely warranted.

“ _That's_ what you're angry about? The Pokemon?!”

“I'm not angry,” he says, blandly, and you'd retort if it didn't mean being a very petty 19-year-old, and also a 19-year-old that wouldn't be getting any directions soon. He wipes his palms on his (frankly, unfashionable) cargo capris, then swipes the hair out of his eyes. It reminds you that it is, in fact, the middle of summer, and as if they had just been unmuted, the sound of cicadas drown out the sound of your thoughts.

“You need to get to Hirai station, don't you. If you keep walking down this road, you'll get to an intersection with the bridge. Turn right and there should be signs from there. Bye. Thanks for the Pokemon.”

Now, let it be known that Oikawa Tooru is great at making decisions and taking opportunities. The _King_ of them, in fact. But like many before you, your abilities are both a blessing and a curse. For some people, that means having elemental powers that allow them to save on electricity bills when cooking, but also means waking up in the middle of the night to find that they've burned their bed to a crisp and need to buy the fifteenth mattress in that month.

For you, it means that your brain screams ' _profit_ ' at you over and over, effectively feeling like your skull is threatening to break out of your head and your body spaghettifying unless you capitalize on the rare opportunity _right now it could slip away any moment do it_.

“Hang on,” you say. “I've got a proposition for you.”

Honestly, you're lucky he didn't try to run immediately at the poorly phrased statement. Instead, he squints at you, mouth thinning. “What?”

“I'll help you catch more Pokemon, _if_ you help me around this place. I'm only here for a few more days but I'm still not very familiar with the area. It'd help a lot if you could point out landmarks or, possibly, anywhere that is residentially viable. What do you say?”

“I can catch Pokemon by myself,” he mumbles, blankly, but he hasn't moved away yet so you're counting it as a win. It's possible that he wouldn't even be  _outside_ if it weren't for the game, so he must be pretty determined about it. That's always something you can appreciate, even though you're not into the gaming thing yourself. You stand from the railing, stretching in the muggy air. The heat won't be letting up any time soon, the sun still high in the sky, but the roadside isn't making it any cooler, and the shadows cast by the houses are looking tempting.

“A compelling argument,” you say, slinging your bag over your shoulder. The cap on your head is quickly becoming a sweat absorber rather than a heat repellent, but you have a feeling that if you take it off now, you'll just die on the spot. You adjust it instead, pulling it further down. “And I don't doubt it for a second.

“But you also told me that you came here because there was no one around, and you also told me that it's not the game that tells you which places are crowded. So regardless of however you actually know, I can tell you which uncrowded areas are more likely to have better Pokemon! Y'know, instead of wandering around in the sun for hours.”

He pauses, regards you for a moment. Like a cat eyeing a strange cat-lover and wondering whether it's worth the trouble or not. It might just be your wishful thinking (not that you _care_ about what this random teenager thinks, nope), but you think that he looks, just a bit, even slightly impressed. Or maybe surprise. At the very least, you're not an obstacle anymore?

“Foresight,” he says, finally, as if he's made up his mind. Your responding expression may be more blank than you'd care to admit. “I can tell how many people there are in an area. For up to about two kilometers, in specific numbers until 120.

“You're using a luck power,” he continues, cutting you off. You stare. This kid is getting more unpredictable by the _second_ , and you're going to blame your continued speechlessness on that, thank you very much. His phone is no longer in his hand - he must have slipped it into one of his many pockets. “If you're not playing, then that's the only way you could've found that Pokemon. If you'd had a foresight power, you would've known what kind it was and you would have been more certain. Being able to detect rare things only seems more luck than foresight. And you said you were _lucky_ , didn't you?”

You are a lot of things, but you are not a liar (no matter what anyone else says!).

And right now, you can't help but be _impressed_. Maybe your powers work on finding weird, unique people, too.

“So,” you say, and the smile on your face is slowly feeling less polite and more genuine. It must be the heat exhaustion. “Deal?”

His eyes trail up, finally meeting your own. Something about his gaze seems familiar – possibly, you'd met him in high school, assuming you were right about his age. Cutting, wide, sharp and focused - it's unsettling, but not necessarily unpleasant. His lips curl into a fraction of a smile.

“Lunch. Then it's a deal.”

Well. It looks like you'll be walking all the way back to Kameido. You find, worryingly enough, that you can't quite work yourself up to begrudge him for it, and it takes a lot less to swallow your pride than you thought it would.

"Oikawa Tooru, at your service," you say, giving him a mock salute. He definitely huffs this time, eyes sliding back away from yours, but his shoulders aren't quite so taut, and he's not turning his body away from you, either.

"Kozume Kenma. We could probably make it to the Skytree, if you want, but I can walk you through the city districts."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It did _not_ translate very well into English, but basically he's speaking casually where one would expect him to speak at least politely (i.e. to a stranger, an adult).
> 
> also the title has no significance, its just that the song by passion pit was stuck in my head for a good portion of the writing process


End file.
